


Kill The Beast

by fire_sprite



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Coming Out, Crying, Gaston doesn't treat LeFou like shit in this story, Internalized Homophobia, Josh Gad is amazing, LeFou slowly realizes his feelings, Please don't judge me, actually i researched a shit ton of this shit like, but it's just how it's translated so, gaston actUALLY CRIES, i cried through most of the movie honestly, i love emma watson, i love them, im horrible at tagging sorry, it's set in the 1991 version though, kind of obvious but, references to the 2017 movie, resurrection??, she can slay me, some google translate french, speaking of some of the insults are historically inaccurate if you translate them, thank you for blessing us with having him play LeFou, there's a very small mention of parental abuse, uh, what else, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 13:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10361301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_sprite/pseuds/fire_sprite
Summary: LeFou slowly realizes his feelings for Gaston, but by the time he does, it's too late.Or is it?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The names of the Bimbettes in my story (Thérese, Celeste, Helêne) was taken from "Little Town, Quiet Village" by TheTeaIsAddictive. It's a pretty cool little story!

_Through the mist, through the wood, through the darkness and the shadows_

 

LeFou and Gaston are thirteen, exploring the village, and Gaston seems on edge until LeFou finally asks what’s wrong. Panicking, the taller boy pulls him into an alley and starts to whisper his predicament.

“LeFou, you have to promise not to tell, okay?” Gaston asks urgently. LeFou nods once, his promise sacred, and his heart lifts at the thought that Gaston trusts him enough to share a secret with him. He runs a hand through his black hair as his friend takes a deep breath.

“You know how sometimes, like, you look at a girl and you kinda get butterflies and get all nervous and stuff?”

“Yeah?” he prompts, remembering a similar feeling he had around Thérese for a time.

“Um, well…” Gaston’s eyes dart back and forth, and then he abruptly starts to walk out, muttering a “never mind” under his breath.

“Wait!” LeFou tugs Gaston back and faces him. “What were you going to tell me?”

“It’s nothing,” he insists. LeFou stands, unrelenting.

“Fine,” Gaston checks for nearby villagers and slinks back into the valley, sliding down into a sitting position. “I--I get that feeling when I look at François.” he says quickly. LeFou furrows his brows, recalling the amber-haired boy he’s talked to on a few occasions.

“So?” he asks cautiously.

“So--it’s _wrong_ , LeFou!” Gaston exclaims. LeFou immediately feels his stomach twist at these words. “I tried to tell Père, but he…” he curls up, burying his head in his arms. LeFou sympathizes. His best friend’s father has never been… well, supportive of any of his children, and much less when he’s been drinking.

LeFou doesn’t know what to say, so he rests his hand on Gaston’s shoulder.

“It’s okay to like François, Gaston.” he reassures, giving his friend a hug.

“I… I don’t know.” Gaston has never sounded as broken as he does now.

“It’ll be okay,” LeFou stands and offers a hand to him. “Do you want to ask François if he wants to race with us?”

Gaston offers him a shaky smile.

“Thanks.”

 

_You can bet they all will follow, for in times like this, they'll do just as I say_

 

“Belle’s going to get the surprise of her life,” he mutters, peering through the bushes.

“This is her lucky day,” Gaston’s face softens as he gazes at the house. LeFou feels a twang but brushes it off--probably just a result of the undercooked kill from last night. Gaston steps out of the bushes and overlooks the celebrations.

“I’d like to thank you all for coming to my wedding,” he starts, his voice fading out as LeFou stops paying attention. Gaston’s already practiced this speech in front of him at least fifty times, and the least a man can do for his best friend is to be patient at his wedding.

“And, you, LeFou,” his thoughts are jerked back to the present when Gaston suddenly leans in close, “when Belle and I come out that door…”

“I know,” he grins, trying to keep the beating of his heart under control, “I strike up the band.” LeFou gestures to the group of men who claim musical talent, unintentionally conducting them, to which they start playing a very loud and off-key version of the village’s traditional wedding song. Gaston peers down at LeFou, concerned.

“Are you all right, LeFou? Your face is… flushed.” his eyebrows furrow.

“I’m fine,” he says easily, “Just--excited for my best friend’s wedding!” he sells the lie with a smile and a light laugh, and Gaston walks off to shush the band without any further conversation.

If LeFou is being entirely truthful, he’s not all right, but he’s not sure what’s making him feel this erratically, either. And when Belle predictably (it’s quite obvious that Belle wants nothing to do with Gaston, at least to him, anyway) rejects Gaston, LeFou can’t help but feel a little grateful towards the girl.

 

_There’s a beast running wild, there’s no question, but I fear the wrong monster’s released_

 

LeFou is too caught up in the shouting to notice the inhuman look in Gaston’s eyes until it’s too late. Gaston grabs his hand and pulls him along, barking orders at the villagers to mount their horses, light their torches. He throws an arm around LeFou (and somehow he is caught off guard by this entirely) and shows him the mirror, growling something about the Beast’s fangs. LeFou looks into the mirror, but for some reason he only sees Gaston and himself, and that unnerves him enough to provide the shaken look Gaston seems to be looking for. Gaston releases him and runs off, shouting more about the damned creature.

LeFou’s mind suggests that the mirror might be right, that Gaston is the true monster.

LeFou shakes the thought out of his head and continues, and he knows, they’re doing this for the greater good, for the village.

Before he knows it, he is being pulled up onto Gaston’s horse, and they are heading into the woods. He steadies himself and sets his sights ahead with a grim determination, and it’s not long before the castle is looming ahead.

“Save your children and your wives!” one man encourages, and the chant quickly spreads.

“We’ll save the village and our lives!” Gaston promises.

The protesting crowd of villagers sets upon the castle, and thunder and lightning crackle, adding to the roar.

“Take whatever treasure you can find. But remember, the Beast is _mine!_ ” Gaston snarls, stalking up to the heavy double doors.

“Kill the Beast!” the villagers scream.

“Kill the Beast!”

“ _Kill the Beast!_ ”

 

_Here we come, we're fifty strong, and fifty Frenchmen can't be wrong_

 

The villagers are effectively being beat, but LeFou couldn’t care less, as he is fighting his way through the cursed furniture and fighting men to try and find Gaston, because no matter what, there is not a chance the hunter can stand against a monster. The rain thunders down upon the roof, drizzling in through the smashed windows and effectively hindering his path.

He narrowly dodges a candelabra thrown his way and runs up a staircase that leads to a destroyed wing of the castle. It turns out to lead to a long balcony, and LeFou, all but desperate, runs out onto it, shielding his eyes against the rain. His heart skips a beat as he sees a dark figure prowling the rooftops, and Gaston’s snarking voice echoes through the towers.

“Were you in _love_ with her, _Beast?_ ” he cries. The question, however simple, seems to be directed to him instead, even though LeFou knows there isn’t a way the man can see him anyway.

_Were you in love with him?_

“Did you honestly think she’d want _you_ when she had someone like _me?_ ” he bellows.

_Did you honestly think he’d want you when he saw someone like her?_

LeFou grits his teeth and races out to the edge of the balcony, his eyes blurring with--is it tears or rain? He yells, Gaston, just _stop_ this, you’re going to kill yourself, but the shout is lost in the wind.

Gaston turns, once, in time to see the Beast hulking over him, and LeFou has barely time to register it before the two silhouettes swing at each other again, and--

“It’s over, Beast! _Belle is mine!_ ” he howls, and the creature lunges, and it’s a split second before Gaston is hanging over the edges of the valley, a drop that is sure to kill, and LeFou can’t breathe.

To his immense shock, the monster lowers his grip and sets Gaston back onto the ledge, then turns away to Belle, who is somehow on the tower.

Gaston isn’t one to be beaten easily, but LeFou knows that he won’t risk his life again.

At least, he thinks, until the hunter is plunging his dagger into the Beast and Belle is racing to pull the creature onto her tower.

And suddenly, Gaston is losing his grip on the slippery rail, then swinging his arms, and then plunging into the valley.

LeFou shouts, but it is too late.

 

 

It has been a year, and much has changed.

 

There is one question that has been nagging LeFou ever since the gruesome day, and finally he collects his courage and decides to ask Belle.

_Why did your magic mirror show me Gaston and I instead of Adam?_

Belle’s face seems to soften, and she and Adam look at each other as if they know something he does not.

His heart drops as Belle tells him that the mirror only shows what the viewer wants most to see.

And LeFou stands there as he realizes that truly, he is his namesake, for he is a fool to have ever fallen in love with his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAy SO I LOOKED UP THE TRANSLATION FOR LEFOU AND I GOT “THE FOOL” WHICH EXPLAINS HOW LEFOU WAS A FOOL TO FALL IN LOVE WITH HIS BEST FRIEND SORR Y


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is set after the movie sO I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT HA

LeFou has enough common sense to know that drinking after grief leads to becoming a poor man on the street, thankfully, and so he heeds his own advice even though the want for alcohol is strong in his mind.

Finally, he makes a compromise with himself. He can go down to the bar, but he won’t have a single drop of anything.

Mostly, he sits and watches. Occasionally, a drunken man will sling his arm around him and point and tell him to get a _girl_ and be _happy,_ but LeFou politely declines each time. Marrying is far from his mind.

A few maidens _have_ come up to him, faces flushed, and giggle about how _lovely_ it’d be if someone came and took them home, but he shakes his head and directs them somewhere else. The bartender notices, but keeps quiet. The bartender, LeFou has found, makes good company. Quiet and non-judging, they often walk together when the bar has died down. It’s a comfortable sort of silence.

One night, having his fill of chatter, he stands up, nods to the taverner, and walks out, pulling his coat around him as the winter winds whirl.

Although it’s an odd choice, he decides to go for a walk in the forest. Now that the--no, _Prince_ Adam has recovered from his animalistic state, there’s not much that could threaten him. The wolves are out in the far reaches of the woods, and he won’t be going in that far anyway.

The frosty leaves crunch under his feet, and patches of snow glisten on the ground. Autumn is turning into winter slowly, and he has to be careful of the overhead branches, as icicles are beginning to form.

His breath hangs in the air as LeFou makes his way deeper into the forest, leaving the warmth and yelling of the alehouse behind. A branch cracks above him, and as he looks up, snow falls from it and splatters his face.

“ _Merde,_ ” he mutters, wiping his face. He turns to the village, considering going back, but elects to stay on the forest walk.

 

LeFou has reached the farthest reach of the woods that he dares to go when he hears branches snapping from a few feet away. On his guard, he picks up a large stick, glancing around. It’s most likely a woodland creature, awaking from slumber, but you can never be too careful on a dark night like this.

A stumbling figure makes its way towards LeFou. He cups his hand around his eyes, trying to see, but the winds that are beginning to set in and the general shrouding of the night make it hard to decipher who they are.

As they come closer, his heart speeds up.

_It can’t be… no, it’s unthinkable._

“ _LeFou!_ ” the figure hoarsely calls out.

_Mon Dieu…_

LeFou drops the stick in shock, and soon he is engulfed in a hug by a sobbing mess. Awkwardly, he pats them back, and they eventually release him.

Gaston’s breathing comes in ragged intervals, and his confident stride has been reduced to a staggering walk. One of his eyes has been swollen shut, and he limps on one leg.

“Gaston… what has happened to you?” he asks quietly, gripping his friend’s arms as they sway lightly.

“This… the Enchantress…” Gaston breathes, trying to clear his throat. “She healed me, LeFou, I wouldn’t have survived if she hadn’t,” the eye that can open shines with his familiar excitement.

“You don’t appear very healed,” LeFou contradicts, still worried about the innumerable injuries on Gaston’s body. He shakes his head.

“Just enough,” the man pants. “She healed me just enough, but she said something else… something about you and--a curse, I think…?”

“Gaston,” LeFou says patiently, “can you remember exactly what she said?”

His face crinkles with confusion.

“No… I was mostly too relieved to be alive.”

“So she put a curse on you, or me, or both of us… and you didn’t bother to listen?” LeFou asks exasperatedly.

“Well, I wasn’t…” Gaston trails off uncomfortably.

“Follow me,” LeFou puts an arm around his waist to steady him, “let’s go to the village. We can heal you there.”

For some reason, this seems to reduce Gaston to tears once more, and LeFou resumes quietly asking questions while comforting his friend.

_Did you meet the Enchantress?_

_No, but I could hear her when I woke up._

_How long were you healed?_

_I don’t know, only that I was unconscious for most of it._

_How long were you out on your own?_

_Weeks? Months? How long has it been?_

LeFou stops at this, unsure how to reveal the time to him.

“Gaston… a year has passed,” he says softly.

“A--a year?” he stammers. “I thought--a year, truly, LeFou?” the broken look in his eyes makes LeFou’s heart break. He nods.

“I--nevermind,” LeFou cuts himself off.

“What?”

“It’s nothing,” he says evasively, “I’m just happy you’re alive.”

 

The two finally make their way to LeFou’s house, and he sets Gaston onto a plain _duchesse_ before finding the village doctor. The doctor doesn’t seem too concerned--thankfully, the wounds don’t seem too dangerous. Mostly, he dresses Gaston’s injuries and advises the man to keep off his feet for a day or so. As soon as the doctor leaves, Gaston’s eyes close and he slips into a deep sleep. LeFou, unsure of what to do, settles for watching over him and eventually falling asleep in the chair next to him.

 

The next day, LeFou is awakened by a trio of high-pitched, squealing voices outside his door. He groggily gets up and stumbles back as a wave of blonde hair rushes past him and into the house.

“Is Gaston here?” Thérese almost screeches.

“We heard from Doctor Abélard he was back!” Helêne hurries through the room to find an almost coma-ridden Gaston, drooling slightly.

“Oh, Gas-ton,” Celeste coos, taking the chance to sit on his lap. At the sudden weight, Gaston jerks upward and squints at the girls.

“Gaston!” they all shout in unison, immediately doting on the confused and still-sleepy man. LeFou feels a prick of annoyance at this, choosing to take a sharper tone.

“Ladies,” he begins, “I’m honored that you have such a strong--”

_Obsession,_

“--infatuation with my--with _Gaston,_ but he needs to be left alone for the time.”

All three whine in harmony.

“But LeFou--”

“My Gaston--!”

“He needs--”

LeFou gently ushers them out, then sees the crowd gathering outside.

_Apparently Doctor Abélard has been gossiping to the entire village…_

He hears a chuckle from the other room.

“So, the ladies are still in love with me, I presume?” he grins. LeFou snorts, then gives a nod.

“With no notice that you’re ill, they immediately start screaming in your face…” LeFou shakes his head. “But how are you feeling? Are you recovering well?”

“I believe so,” Gaston affirms, examining his many bandages. “What about you, LeFou?”

“Me?”

“Yes,” he looks back up at him, “if the Enchantress has truly put a curse on you, I certainly hope you are feeling well.”

“You may watch what you’re saying, Gaston, for one would start to think you care for me,” LeFou laughs, crossing the room and sitting down across his friend. Gaston suddenly looks serious.

“My friend, while I was lost in the woods, I discovered many things. The time, however torturous without a drink or a weapon, was beneficial.”

LeFou nods in encouragement, his hope sparking. Gaston continues.

“I learned that… I should have valued you more,” he looks down in shame, “I became boastful when my ego exceeded my prestige, and began to spend my time on hunts and maidens, but I had never realized that you truly value me as a friend.” he pauses. “I am truly sorry for disregarding your friendship.” the man meets LeFou’s eyes. “Will you forgive me?”

Out of instinct, LeFou takes Gaston’s hand. He doesn’t move his hand, to which he feels a small relief.

“Of course I will,” LeFou smiles, “for when can a man never forgive his best friend?”

_For when will a man know his best friend’s feelings?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i used the "enchantress heals gaston" idea okay don't attack me
> 
> anyway i think i'll write like,, one more chapter to wrap up loose ends and then it'll be done


	3. birthday gift for y'all

yO so I was originally gonna upload a chapter for my birthday (March 29) bUt then I got writers' block so then I decided I was gonna make an art piece hinting at future scenes (wink wonk)

 

here you go nerds:

[fan art fueled by pure 4 AM adrenaline](http://i1250.photobucket.com/albums/hh538/phantom019/GaFou/image_zps3pgimqjm.jpeg)

 

 

(also I think ao3 is glitching out bc it keeps adding notes I've disabled to the ends of my other chapters so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯)


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -we’re assuming LeFou is literate even though it’d probably be historically inaccurate  
> -thanks to this fic i had to research how the french shaved in the 1740s, the FBI is probably very confused at this  
> -”intrusive thoughts” are modern but you know what sue me  
> -i love gaston confronting himself  
> -point of view changes with a hyphen

After a few days, Gaston is tired of being kept in the house and is now trying to stand, without much avail. He stumbles around a bit, accidentally knocking over various pieces of furniture before finally giving up.

“Gaston, Doctor _told_ you, you need to stay off your feet for the rest of the day.”

“Ha! What good is his advice; I’m healing quite enough already,” Gaston boasts. “Anyway,” he continues, “I think that--aah!” Gaston slips, careening his arms before LeFou catches him, ending up cradling his back and meeting his bright blue eyes. He feels heat spread across his face as they continue gazing at each other, but Gaston is the first to break the spell, coughing awkwardly and turning away. LeFou averts his gaze and doesn’t see the twin blush on his friend’s face.

“I have to go to the market today, will you be all right alone?” he asks concernedly.

“Of course I will,” Gaston reassures without turning around, his ears red. LeFou isn’t sure what to make of that, but bids him goodbye and heads out.

Most of the market passes without incident, but as LeFou glances at the butcher’s meat, drenched in blood and hanging from the windows, he pauses, becoming more aware of himself. His blood starts to rush and the basket he holds almost drops with the shaking of his hands. He shakes his head, clearing it, and ends up confusedly buying a large raw cow shank, ignoring the stares as he lugs it behind him.

Surprisingly, Gaston looks nervous--and scared?--when he sees the package, but doesn’t say anything and helps LeFou pack it into the barrels in the cellar.

The next day, LeFou asks about the curse, and the fear is clear in Gaston’s eyes as he, yet again, denies memory of it. He refuses to abandon the subject, though, but every time he brings it up, Gaston diverts the conversation.

In the night, LeFou jerks awake to unmeasurable hunger, and he creeps down the cellar stairs to bring up some of the shank. He’s so hungry he doesn’t bother to bring it to the kitchen--or cook it, for that matter, instead digging it out of the barrel and ripping into it.

Each bite only seems to make him more hungry, and he even resorts to gnawing on bones. As he finishes the chunk of shank, he wipes his mouth and realizes how much blood is on his face. A creak sounds from above, and he tenses up before realizing it’s Gaston, a candle in hand and shock written on his face.

“LeFou…?”

His hunger is gone, and in place of it, horror.

_How do I explain this?_

“I--the--the butcher recommended it…” he desperately explains. Gaston looks dissatisfied with this explanation, but doesn’t pursue it further. He holds out a hand.

“I see… well, come out of the cellar. You need rest.”

 

-

 

Gaston knows, he _knows,_ what’s going on.

 _Why aren’t I_ telling _him, why aren’t I?_

He knows that too, but can’t accept it.

 

Normally, his relief is with LeFou, whose presence has always soothed him, but now being with him sparks new worry. He attributes his frequent blushing and erratic heartbeats to the stress.

He hears the Enchantress, reprimanding and reminding.

She appears in his dreams more often than not, maddeningly cryptic and always with a look of growing exasperation. She seems to be growing more frustrated with him each time, once ending a dream with an angry shout, and with Gaston waking up in a cold sweat.

 

-

 

LeFou has no idea what is happening to him, and that scares him more than anything.

A week later, he finds hair growing on his palms. Gaston teases him about it, saying his adulthood has finally caught up to him, but stops at the tense look on his face. In the morning, his hands are bleeding and the hair has regrown.

Another week has passed, and his nails are growing quicker--seemingly overnight, they gain half an inch. Lefou discovers this after accidentally smacking his hand against the wall and cringing at the painful response. He breaks them off and bandages his fingertips.

He finds his mind sharper at night, but barely sleeps, for some dark paranoia keeps him awake. It leaves him panicking, grasping for something to hope for. As soon as his eyes droop shut, his mind is wracked with ambivalence. One particularly bad night, he starts digging his nails into his scalp, trying to silence the mania.

There is a new voice in his head, demanding more blood. He tries to satisfy himself with more raw meat, but one night, he wakes up in the forest, a half-eaten deer next to him. The village doesn’t notice, but he’s sure that Gaston can see right through him--or perhaps that’s the paranoia getting to him again. He isn’t sure anymore whether the voice in his head is really _his,_ or the monster inside of him.

His dreams intertwine with life, making him on guard, his reflexes fast and unexpected. Once, he involuntarily smashes a pot when he’s startled by a squirrel in the house. He packs away the most delicate dishes and hopes he won’t break the rest.

Gaston seems more quiet and reserved, and checks on LeFou more. He ignores the concerned looks and questions, but furtively makes sure of his friend. Gaston’s dreams also seem to be plagued, the one thing they share in common.

LeFou writes of these changes, and more often finds pages scattered around his bedroom, crazed writing crowding the paper. He can’t make out most of it and doesn’t want to.

The night of the full moon, LeFou doesn’t come home.

 

-

 

_He’s not home, he’s not home, HE’S NOT HOME, it’s been hours and he usually returns--_

Gaston shuts off his train of thought and continues pacing, but the tidal wave of thought threatens to rush any minute. Finally, he dashes out the door, grabbing a coat--even though it’s February, the snow hasn’t receded yet. Putting it on as he sprints towards the forest--he’s seen it in his nightmares, he knows it like the back of his hand--the man worries about the moon’s state.

_If it’s the full moon, there’s no way--_

“Come on, LeFou,” he pants, hair whipping in his face.

_The Enchantress said--_

_You_ know _what’s going on,_ don’t _you, why did you never tell him?_

_Because you’re a coward that can’t face the truth, really? You know lying to yourself never works out._

_I wasn’t--I’m not--lying has nothing to do with this!_

_Really, it doesn’t? I’m not sure you agree._

_That doesn’t make sense--I’m the one in control here._

_Are you?_

“Shut up, me,” Gaston growls.

_Back to silencing yourself?_

_Reiterating the “lying to yourself” part, hmm?_

_I need to find LeFou, I’ll confront myself later._

_Because that’s what you’ll always say. You cannot seem to ever face your feelings._

_There are no feelings to face!_

_We disagree._

_There is no “we” in this!_

_So you label us the--what is it--unwelcome thoughts?_

“You’re certainly unwelcome,” he snaps, aware that he’s starting to behave a little madly. He catches his breath against a tree, and tracks catch his eye in the thin layer of snow. LeFou’s heavy boot prints are clearly visible, and from what Gaston knows about tracking prints, he was staggering and seemed to be in a great deal of pain.

_Oh, LeFou…_

A snap makes him whip around. Gaston’s breath catches in his chest as he looks up.

A hulking black wolf snarls above him, scarlet eyes glowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aPRIL FOOLS YOU GET ANOTHER CHAPTER AFTER THIS ONE


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -jesus christ is resurrected and so is this fic  
> -guys i had to look up synonyms for tree and idk if it’s because i'm tired but thesaurus.com’s definition of “tree” is the funniest thing

He’s shaking, that he’s sure of.

_Mon Dieu, LeFou… I’m so sorry._

He extends a hand, trying in vain to calm the growling beast. He’s calmed the hunting dogs before, but nothing ever like this.

“No,” he says hoarsely, “No, please, it’s not you…”

The wolf growls, unaffected.

“It’s going to be okay, it’ll be okay,” Gaston reassures in a trembling voice.

_Are you saying that to yourself or to him?_

“Ju-just turn back, and it can return to normal,”

_And how is he going to turn back?_

He falters.

_You still have your gun, do you not? Silver bullets would perform its purpose--_

_No!_

-

LeFou is fighting a battle he does not know if he can win. His very identity is being torn at the seams, and his bloodlust grows stronger with every minute. Every time he bears to glance at Gaston, his teeth and claws grow sharper.

_I can’t hurt him._

The wolf--no, _LeFou_ \--is pained. The bloodlust is getting to him.

_Blood dripping from the branches, staining--_

_No,_ he barks.

_Staining your fur, the black mixed with crimson--_

_STOP IT--_

**_Mixing with the snow, puddles of it on the ground--_ **

**_Just STOP,_ ** it tries to cry out.

 **_Blood everywhere, in your teeth, on his shirt, blood BLOOD BLOOD_ ** **_BLOOD_ **

It whines, and the last bit of LeFou disappears.

 

-

 

Gaston wants to step forward, but the way the wolf is snapping, he doesn’t dare to go near it.

_I shouldn’t leave him…_

He steps back, and the wolf follows his every movement with its eyes. It creeps forward. The shaking sets in again, this time jarring his voice.

“I don’t want to run from you,” Gaston warns. “I--I may have to, I’m sorry…”

He pleads, begs, hoping Nature or God or _somebody_ will come and resolve this.

 _There is no way this is happening, I can’t believe--how could I_ do _this…_

A growl builds up in the wolf’s throat.

It pounces, and Gaston finds himself running again.

 _I’m so sorry, LeFou, I’m so sorry,_ he repeats, over and over again.

“Please, _Dieu,_ help me,” he half-prays, half-pants, but his God doesn’t seem to want to interfere.

The branches snap back into the wolf’s face, and the risky glance over his shoulder tells him that the wolf rears back, howling in pain.

_I’m so sorry._

He wonders, curiously enough, how things would have been the other way around. If he had been turned and LeFou would have been the one running.

_This wouldn’t be happening, because LeFou is intelligent enough to tell his friend that he’s a damné werewolf._

Again, he curses himself for not wanting to see the signs.

He wonders just how much self-control LeFou has, before getting hit in the eye with a particularly snowy branch. The sudden coldness snaps him back to his senses because _of course, LeFou would never hurt you if he could help it._

 _And I wouldn’t hurt him, obviously, I love him--_ The unexpected thought jars his heart seemingly more than the current chase, and he has to remind himself to _collect yourself, you have no business interpreting your feelings for LeFou right now._

Another glance behind him, and his shoulder slams into a tree, making him stumble and duck out of the path. The wolf gallops by, giving him some time.

Gaston breathes heavily, trying not to cry out from the extreme pain jolting up and down his arm. He grits his teeth against the scream and hot tears cloud his vision.

A few minutes later, he hears the confused yelping of the animal and _it’s coming for me now._ He tries to pick himself off the ground. Gaston’s legs tremble, but he leans heavily on the tree and staggers his way along the path.

It has become frighteningly quiet, and every step jolts his shoulder and makes him painfully aware of how loud he is against the silence of the night.

His eyes darting constantly, the man establishes a steady, though still wobbly, walk.

 _Mon Dieu,_ how he hates the silence.

 

Fortunately and unfortunately, the silence is broken with a gnashing of teeth and a whirl of fur and claws, knocking him a yard away and into another timber. Gaston’s back slams into the bark, scraping at the injured limb and drawing blood from it.

He inhales sharply and is just recovering when he’s slammed into it again, agony spreading in waves through his body. The scarlet eyes stare him in the face, and a second passes before the wolf releases him and stalks back a few feet, dragging its paws, pacing.

Gaston dares to wonder whether LeFou’s mind might be regaining control.

He gets his answer when the wolf gives a drawn-out whine, scraping its head along the ground and shaking as though there’s demons possessing it.

 _I’m so sorry,_ he repeats for the fiftieth time.

 _You should be,_ a low voice snaps.

He can see the Enchantress in his head, her eyes ice and her voice colder.

_The night you tried to slaughter the Beast, LeFou saw your intentions. You lost control of yourself that night, and it scared him._

_Didn’t you see him trying to reach you? Or were you too caught up in your own pursuit of glory? He saw you DIE, you crétin!_

His breath catches in his chest.

_And now… another beast._

She pauses.

_So now how do you feel? Do you wish to slaughter your own "beast" without a second thought?_

_No,_ he argues desperately. _This is LeFou, he's different._

_How is this different? How is it any different than killing Belle's love?_

 

"Because he's my love!" he shouts.

His stomach drops as the wolf turns around, staring at him.

Its eyes flicker, and Gaston can see LeFou’s eyes, a warm brown, contrasting sharply. It gives him strength.

Something tells him that this is it.

It’s his chance.

“Please, just come home with me,” his voice cracks.

“ _Please,_ LeFou.”

 

The wolf shudders, its fur bristling before settling, and before Gaston can blink, LeFou is emerging, draped in ragged clothing and shaking.

Gaston nearly throws himself on the ground in an effort to get to him, and the Enchantress mumbles something about him being the most desperate man she’s ever seen, but he ignores her.

“LeFou… are you okay? Did you--”

“Gaston.” he says clearly, and looks him in the eyes. “Did you mean what you said?”

 _Actions speak louder than words,_ murmurs the Enchantress. Gaston takes the hint and, bracing himself for rejection, leans forward.

His lips meet LeFou’s, and the world seems to almost burn, filling his heart with joy. LeFou smiles against the kiss.

"Yes," Gaston grins.

"I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -the whole werewolf thing is based entirely off a post by annabellioncourt on tumblr: “There’s a lovely old English myth that if someone who truely loved and trusted the werewolf called it by name that it would turn back to human… Others include throwing their human clothes at it and it’d turn back but that’s a bit less romantic”
> 
>  
> 
> also: it's completed!! (i might draw some fanart that i'll post later :))


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